


Frequent Flyer

by glasgow_blue



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-05
Updated: 2004-05-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 07:40:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9225266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glasgow_blue/pseuds/glasgow_blue





	

For [](http://mcee.livejournal.com/profile)[**mcee**](http://mcee.livejournal.com/). 450 words: _airport, jetlag, delay_

When they were small, Billy and his sister played Airport in the parlor. Neither had ever been to one, let alone on an actual airplane, but Billy watched movies and was in the habit of quizzing every foreigner he met. _Do the wings flap? Does the pilot come through and collect the tickets? If you pull the cord, will the plane stop? Is there really a loo right on board?_ And on and on and on until finally, exasperated and embarrassed, his gran bought him a toy airplane and a book at the SVP.

This, of course, only fueled the obsession.

Margaret was shoved into the coat closet and a table was up-ended in front of the door to fashion a ticket counter. Billy, sporting a jaunty cap and his school bag, always played the passenger while she took on any number of roles as airline personnel. Blissfully ignorant of the laws of physics and the size of the earth, he often traveled to and from America in one day--sometimes with a brief jaunt to darkest Africa along the way. She sold trans-Atlantic tickets for pennies and brought him ham sandwiches, biscuits, and tea for the meal service. In the middle 1970s, when security became a big issue, Billy rigged himself a metal detector with the coat tree, the bookcase, and an umbrella strung between them. Because she didn't know better, Margaret ended every flight by announcing the arrival location--like on the trains they sometimes took to the far side of the city.

_America! London! Africa! Glasgow, last stop!_

Now, years later, he is well adjusted to the throes of modern travel, but Billy is still startled by the traditional "Thank you for flying with us, buh-bye." He wants them to stand up, smile, and bellow _LOS ANGELES!_. Or wherever. He wants to be able to traverse the globe as quickly as he did back then, immune to delays and jetlag. He craves his gran’s tea because, even though it was store brand, it was the best tea on the planet. And he’d give his left testicle for a plate of her ginger-lemon bickies --though he’d probably come to regret the trade, later.

So he sits quietly in his seat, longing for comfort food and watching the ocean slip by beneath him. By his reckoning, there are still another two hours to go before they land in Wellington. He’s got a book -- _The Rough Guide to New Zealand_ \-- and it’s already full of folded pages, scribbled notes, and circled places. He’s ready to go to work. Ready for a steady paycheck. Ready for change. Ready for adventure.

Margaret, as it turns out, is afraid to fly.  



End file.
